Love in the Time of Wall Street
by Rosra
Summary: A story of the romance between Eomer of Rohan and Princess Lothiriel set in the modern day. How will their lives and their love translate over into this brave new world? How will they navigate obstacles like one-night stands, shameless commercialism, and the ever elusive perfect relationship? Read on to find out, but only if you're willing to see the two in a very different light.
1. Chapter 1: A Fateful Meeting

Chapter 1: A Fateful Meeting

Lothiriel was bored. She was already halfway through her second flute of sparkling cider and nothing exciting had happened. She had made the rounds earlier: like a dutiful daughter, she had greeted her father's friends politely and exchanged some dull bits of gossip with a few acquaintances who had seemed just as bored as she was. They were probably waiting for the same thing, after all. Now she was standing by herself in an unobtrusive corner of the room, nursing her cider and wishing it was real champagne instead. It wasn't all that bad, though, and she contemplated getting a third one before deciding against it. She would have to visit the ladies' room, and there was sure to be a line.

Lothiriel reminded herself that she needed to stay present and alert. After all, she was here for a purpose, whether she liked it or not. Why else would she have turned up at one of her father's many dull, if extravagant parties when she had been making up excuses to get out of them since she was fifteen? And she was in stilettos, no less. Paired with a midnight blue cocktail dress with a plunging neckline, she had to admit that she looked much more presentable than her usual self, clad in chunky sweaters and jeans. She had even taken it upon herself to put on some eyeshadow and mascara. For the last five years her aunt had been adamant about her wearing makeup at all times, but she had always despised the hassle. Once she had escaped to the refuge of college, she had rejoiced being beyond Aunt Ivriniel's reach by quickly falling out of the habit. It was only during the inescapable family gatherings and holiday parties that she was forced to play the role given to her.

Like now, except that it wasn't Aunt Ivriniel this time who had insisted for her to come. She glared at the culprit responsible for her discomfort, her brother Amrothos. He had been standing across the room for the past half hour, chatting up some blonde beauty. As if sensing her gaze, he looked up at that moment and caught her eye. Lothiriel had to admit he looked dapper enough in a dark, well-tailored suit with a matching tie. His unruly black-brown hair was as untameable as always, but no doubt he had made no effort to control it. It was his pride and joy, despite his parents' disapproval and his siblings' sarcastic remarks. Amrothos gave her a cheeky lopsided grin and winked before turning back to the blonde. Lothiriel rolled her eyes at him, though she doubted he noticed. Although he was irritating at times, she would much rather have been sharing a bottle of wine with him and a few friends in his spacious luxury apartment across the river. There was nothing like getting pleasantly tipsy at his place while arguing about art or poetry or feminism. All of which she enjoyed thoroughly. It made her feel bohemian and grown up, as if she was a starving artist struggling to survive in the greatest city in the world rather than the sheltered daughter of an established business tycoon.

If it hadn't been for Amrothos' pleas, she certainly wouldn't be here at all tonight. Though she had to admit, her reluctance had been tempered by some curiosity. What was so special about this man, that he should merit such admiring talk from her father and serious eldest brother Elphir? Even Erchirion, who claimed to not care about the family business, had seemed taken with him. Only Amrothos had seemed a little wary of the stranger and had recruited her help to scout him out. She shrugged to herself. The mysterious man was sure to be another grasping businessman, the likes of which had increasingly visited their house and attended their parties in recent years. Unusually skilled, perhaps, but they all hid the same burning greed underneath smiling masks. Amrothos had better give her proper thanks later, she decided as she took a decided swig of cider. Perhaps she could wheedle him into buying her some of the good stuff, a bottle of Dom Perignon. Or absinthe. She had never tried it, but it sounded exotic and luxurious to her. Lothiriel sighed. It was only a few weeks until she turned twenty one, but it seemed like forever. Things would have been so much simpler if only she had been born in Europe, or anywhere else in the world that didn't have America's unreasonable attitude towards alcohol for that matter. But it was too late now, and anyway she could always count on at least one of her brothers to relent and help out a deserving sister in need of a drink.

She was distracted by her thoughts when she spotted a blonde stranger making an entrance through the grand double doors of the rented ballroom. The hair was the first thing she noticed; luscious, dark golden waves that swung past the shoulders, secured loosely with a cord. It would have been striking on anyone, but it was especially noticeable when paired with the strong jaw, straight dark eyebrows, and piercing blue gaze of its owner. He looked every inch the dominating and sometimes ruthless businessman he had shown himself to be. The nearby females, as well as quite a few males, were already turning their heads and erupting into excited chatter. Lothiriel really smiled for the first time that night. Target acquired. She began weaving her way through the scattered groups of guests into the heart of the hubbub surrounding Eomer Eomundsson.

"I'm _very_ pleased to meet you at last, Mr. Eomundsson." Feigning delight while managing not to gush, Lothiriel looked up at him innocently through her long, thick eyelashes. As she did so, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for having the foresight to put on extensions, pain in the neck though they were. Things were going well so far. By mentioning her father's name, she had managed to lure the prey into a relatively secluded alcove on the balcony outside. There were tactical advantages to the position. Apart from making it hard to others to spy on them without seeming intrusive, the warm glow from the low-lit lamps here was more flattering than the bright overhead chandeliers in the center of the ballroom. What was even better, a thoughtful waiter had left a few trays of champagne flutes on a nearby table, untouched and still bubbly in the cool night breeze. _That will definitely come in handy later_, Lothiriel thought to herself. But first she had to finish up introductions. She extended her hand, expecting a firm shake. Instead, she was caught by surprise when the man bent over at the waist and kissed her hand lightly. When he looked up, she was surprised at the intensity of those stormy, dark blue eyes.

"It's a pleasure. Please, call me Eomer." He responded in that deep voice of his, tinged by a slight British accent. Maybe that was what made her cheeks warm slightly, or was it perhaps the spicy scent of cologne that wafted over to her at that moment? Both were rather alluring, she had to admit. Her temperature rose another few degrees when he flashed her a devastating smile, all white teeth and debonair charm. She had to mentally slap herself at that thought. Debonair? What was she, a flapper girl from the 20s? So she had underestimated her opponent, imagining him in her mind to be some arrogant, aging man who could be soothed by a few well-placed compliments. The reality was startlingly different. The man before her couldn't be more than thirty and was probably closer to her own age than that. Moreover, he was much too attractive. She was starting to realize that her cursory glance through his Wikipedia page had not been enough preparation for this fight. Her opponent was experienced, but Lothiriel didn't let that faze her. She too had played this game before, and she wouldn't be defeated so easily. Going over to the champagne, she gingerly picked up two glasses by the stems and brought them back. She offered one to Eomer with what she hoped was a winning smile. It seemed to work, since he took it and smiled back at her in that disarming way. _Damn him!_ Lothiriel was more determined than ever to best this man. She threw her hair back haughtily, causing ripples to form in the silky black curtain that fell down her back.

"A toast to our meeting. It must have been fate." Without hesitation, she tilted her head back and downed the champagne in one gulp. It was delicious and crisp, far better than the kinds she had sampled in the past. She almost regretted not having the chance to savor it. Lothiriel raised her eyes from her empty glass to face her fair opponent. _A challenge_. _Let's see how he responds_. Eomer Eomundsson was grinning, this time with a mischevious air. Then, almost as quickly as Lothiriel had done, he raised the glass to his lips and drank it up. Lothiriel was peeved for a moment. _At least I get to have more_ _champagne_, she thought. At that, she felt herself relax a little...

Quite a few drinks later, she thought to herself that the Eomer guy wasn't so bad after all, and the rest of the evening passed in a blur…


	2. Chapter 2

**A Night to Remember**

_Be warned: mature content!_

Lothiriel woke up the next morning with pounding headache. It wasn't the worst she had had, but it was enough to make her want to curl up even deeper inside her blankets. They were so soft and white and incredibly warm. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the throbbing to go away. After a while it abated and she started to feel like a human being again. How much champagne had she drunk last night? It had seemed so harmless and light that she must have downed the glasses one after the other. She had to remind herself to be more careful around the stuff in the future. She just hoped she hadn't done anything too embarrassing, like the time she had ended up redfaced, laughing and snorting helplessly for almost a straight hour after trying whiskey for the first time at Amrothos'. He had recorded her, the bastard, and threatened to use it as blackmail against any potential boyfriends. Thinking of Amrothos, Lothiriel frowned. She needed to get up soon, or else he was sure to tease her again. What time was it?

She sat up drowsily and took in her surroundings for the first time. Her mouth hung open. This wasn't her room. What was more, judging by the impersonal hangings on the wall and the cramped layout of the room, she was in a hotel. Lothiriel cursed softly: "Shit…" She should have known at the first sight of that white blanket, so different from her patterned quilt at home. Moreover, the mattress was a giant king-sized one. Her heart sinking, she looked down at herself and realized that she was completely naked. Her worst suspicions were confirmed when she looked to the side and discovered the top of a head peeking out from beneath the covers. It was all the way on the other side of the gigantic bed and could have almost gone unnoticed.

Surely she hadn't been so far out of her mind as to sleep with…she couldn't even think it in her head without cringing. Slowly, she lifted up the covers. There was no doubt about it, Eomer Eomundsson was soundly asleep and turned away from her, his golden mane a dead giveaway to his identity. Lothiriel groaned and held her head in her hands as another wave of nausea hit her hard. _The only way this could get any better is if I threw up in bed_. Luckily the feeling passed, and she quickly regained her senses. She had to get out of here, fast. If she was lucky Eomer would have no recollection of the night and they could go their separate ways. According to Amrothos, he was only in New York City for a week-long business trip anyway. There was no reason for them to see each other again.

Having made up her mind, Lothiriel got up and stumbled around, picking up her underwear when she saw it lying near the bed. Why was she so sore? Was that also an effect of the alcohol? As she made for the bathroom, she noticed the stray pieces of clothing all over the room. It was like a crime scene, she thought to herself wryly, where the clothes offered clues towards the events of the night before. Her dress, now a wrinkled mess of midnight blue, lay crumpled near the door. So they'd got down to business right after entering the room.

Inside the bathroom she saw a man's white dress shirt and blazer tossed haphazardly across the fake marble countertop. _How romantic, seducing me next to the toilet_, she thought as she cleared the shirt away from the sink. She took a look in the mirror. Her face was a mess. She hadn't bothered to take her makeup off, and eyeshadow had been smudged all over the place, making her looking like a panda. One of the eyelash extensions was hanging precariously while the other was still firmly attached. _It's a good thing he's not awake to see this_._ Actually, maybe I should wake him up now just to show him. That's a surefire way to make sure he won't call me. _She chuckled at the thought, but began to wash her face anyway. It wouldn't do to give the man a heart attack. When she thought she had rinsed off as much as possible, she wiped her face with a towel rigorously. It came away with black and gray stains, but Lothiriel smiled. At least she looked normal again, although her undereye circles were still more pronounced than usual. What was more, she felt somewhat clean, though a real shower would have to wait until she got home. Her priority at the moment was a quick getaway. She ran her fingers through the tangles in her hair a few times, then shrugged at herself in the mirror. It would have to do. Besides, the tousled look was back in style again. She put her underwear on and went outside to get her dress.

Picking it off the ground, she realized it wasn't as wrinkly as she had feared. She also discovered her matching blue clutch underneath it. She hadn't brought any of her credit cards, but she did find two crumpled twenties and a red lipstick inside. That should be enough for cab fare. She refused to feel guilty about letting Eomer pay for the room; she was sure that the man had enough money to buy the whole hotel without breaking a sweat, let alone rent one measly bedroom. She quickly slipped into her dress and smoothed the crinkles as best as she could with her hands. Her hand was already on the doorknob when she remembered she hadn't put on shoes.

Frowning, she looked in the bathroom. They weren't there. She walked back towards the bed, looking around carefully. There! The stilettos were on the ground on _his_ side, dangerously close to his prone form. Feeling like she was tiptoeing around a sleeping lion, Lothiriel walked as quietly as she could. Now that she was closer to him, she could hear his deep breaths and smell his delicious scent. She shook her head to get rid of that last thought as she bent down to retrieve the shoes. As she did so, she noticed for the first time that his tie and pants lay in a crumpled pile on the ground close to the head of the bed. A pair of plain black boxers had been thrown haphazardly to the side. When she ventured to look at the bedside table, she saw three ripped-open condom wrappers. Well, that explained the soreness. _What exactly happened last night?_ Without bidding, a memory surged to the front of her mind.

_She moaned as Eomer rubbed her breasts, his large hands moving deftly across her body. He bent down and covered her nipple with his mouth, sucking and pulling gently with his teeth. One hand moved downward teasingly before coming to a stop at her hip. She wanted to bury her hands in his hair, but remembered that he had tied them to the bed post earlier with his necktie. When he moved in for a kiss, she opened her eyes briefly and caught a glimpse of his intent face. The dark blue eyes were hungry and fierce, as if they wanted to swallow her whole. And she wouldn't have minded at all…_

Lothiriel came back to herself and realized she was blushing furiously. What was more, she had felt aroused just thinking about what had happened. This was no good, she had to go immediately. Not daring to look back, she darted towards the door, slipped on her shoes as quickly as she could, and made a quick exit. Out in the hallway, the door clicked shut with a note of finality. She looked around surreptitiously. The coast was clear. Lothiriel spotted a sign pointing towards the elevator and scuttled off, getting the distinct feeling that she was running away.

**Author's Note: Thanks so much for those who subscribed (four and counting, yay!)! Feel free to leave any suggestions or comments. **


End file.
